All The Kings Horses
by beyondwonder
Summary: The new Avengers team are just learning to work together when a devastating event draws them together as they try to save one of their own from the demons of the past. Post AOU.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:** Spoilers for Age of Ultron. This idea has been pestering me since I saw CA: TWS and after seeing the latest movie I was finally inspired enough to write it.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing, nada, zip. The Marvel Gods own all rights.

* * *

 _23:40hrs_

 _New Avengers Facility – Upstate New York_

"Still no word from the team, Cap?"

Steve Rogers looked up from cleaning the Harley Davidson parked in front of him to greet his fellow Avengers teammate, Sam Wilson, with a warm smile. "Nothing yet," he answered, running a polishing rag back and forth diligently across the exterior of the bike.

Taking in the dim surroundings of the deserted aircraft hanger, Sam whistled low in his throat as he peered out into the darkness. "It's getting late," he remarked, concern evident on his face. A brief flicker of lightning illuminated enough of the dense forest surrounding the facility to indicate the storm was at its peak, lashing the ground with endless sheets of rain and pummelling the trees with firm gusts of wind. "I'd have thought they'd be back by now."

Noting the digital clock hanging from the wall in front of him, Steve nodded in agreement, the confirmation of the time only reinforcing the tension already set deep in his shoulders. "They'll be back soon," he assured his friend despite his own personal misgivings about the cause of the team's delay. "They might have been forced to take shelter from the storm. It's looking pretty nasty out there."

"Yeah, maybe," Sam agreed dubiously, shifting back and forth on his heels, his lips skewed slightly to the left in concern.

Steve motioned to his comrade to grab one of the sturdy black containers sitting up against the wall and to come and take a seat beside him. While Sam did so, Steve cast a fleeting look over the neat and evenly spaced tools ascended by size order beside him. Additional sprays, pots and polishing rags awaited his attention – their chemical smell reminding him painfully of long hot summer afternoons spent with Bucky in a local garage learning how to clean spark plugs and change the oil on a motorbike. Life back then, before the war, seemed far less complicated than it was now; days when he yearned for adventure and being a part of something; days when it was he and Bucky against the world.

Now the world _and_ Bucky was against him.

Outside a bolt of lightning tore through the night sky causing the lights to flicker precariously above his workspace. _What's taking you so long, Romanoff?_ Steve mused apprehensively while thunder grumbled menacingly overhead.

Natasha Romanoff and a handful of S.H.I.E.L.D agents were approaching their fourth hour past curfew. Their mission, according to Agent Hill, was only a reconnaissance mission and should have been completed well and truly before the sun went down. The complete radio silence had been the first indication that something might have gone wrong, and yet despite Steve's insistence that he check things out, Fury had issued the order to wait it out.

Steve hated waiting. He'd done enough of it to last two lifetimes.

Retrieving a dirty spark plug from the blanket beside him, Steve blew into the end of it and examined the object while cleaning it with a grease-stained rag. As Sam settled on the crate beside him, Steve's thoughts continued to pursue avenues of possible explanations for the team's delay. _I should have gone after them;_ he berated himself, chewing the inside of his check.

"The bike giving you some trouble, Cap?" Sam queried, dragging Steve from his troubling thoughts. "Seems like you've been working on it for a good couple of hours now – you need a hand?"

Reading between the lines of his friends' concerned question, the Captain sent Sam an assuring and somewhat appreciative smile. "Nah, I think I've got a handle on it... but thanks." He replaced the now clean spark plug easily before moving on to inspect the exhaust gasket, checking for leaks or missing fasteners. "Just requires a little patience is all."

"Well patience is something that I excel at, so you're in luck."

Grinning, Steve shot the man a look of mock disbelief. "Is that so?"

"Yup." Sam nodded, brilliant white teeth flashing as he grinned roguishly. "I had to be growing up in a family full of girls. I learned early on you never interrupt a woman while she's in the bathroom, and you never tell her to hurry her ass up unless you're feeling suicidal."

Throwing his head back to emit a hearty laugh, Steve momentarily let go of the worry staining his features and relished in the ease of his friendship with his teammate. "That sounds like some sound advice there, Sam." He remarked, still chuckling as he dipped the edge of a clean rag in to a pot of polish and applied it gently in circular motions to the bike. "I guess I'll have to take your word for it."

"You better," Sam insisted and motioned around the hanger with his hand. "Cos the women round here - what with all their ass kicking and super powers - scare the crap outta of me. Not all of us have a shiny shield to hide behind."

With a smile and a shake of his head, Steve allowed himself a moment to indulge in an old memory; a particularly feisty brunette picking up a gun and testing the said reliability of his shield and his heart without so much as a word of warning. "The dames 'round here sure are a special breed, aren't they?" Steve remarked, his face torn between amusement and fond admiration for the opposite sex he worked with on a daily basis.

"You bet your ass they-"

Steve suddenly bristled, hands pausing on the bike, his head cocked slightly to the right as he became increasingly aware of a slight hum. Sam fell silent. Steve turned his head toward the hanger bay doors as he struggled to place the noise emanating from some type of engine nearby. "Friend or foe?" Sam breathed, raising to his feet and squinting into the darkness, his muscles clenching in preparation for a fight.

Thanks to his heightened senses it more than another silent minute for Steve to distinguish the sound, and his shoulders sagged with relief. "Friend," Steve finally answered.

Two strong beams of light sliced through the darkness, lighting up the hanger and blinding the men temporarily. Steve raised his forearm to shield his eyes; the roar emitting from twin turbo engines battering the reinforced walls of the hanger. The two Avengers waited patiently for the Quinjet to descend effortlessly towards the ground, pistons hissing in response to the landing gear making contact with the ground. The headlights faded back to their standby mode and a cheerful female voice addressed them over the Quinjet's loud speaker.

"Lucy, I'm home!"

Steve rolled his eyes despite the sudden quickening of pace in his heart beat. Relief and delight spread warmly through his chest and stomach as he caught sight of a rain soaked Natasha Romanoff manning the controls of the Quinjet.

The medic team that had been poised on standby since the team missed their scheduled return, surged through the main doors and raced toward the back of the Quinjet in search of any injured Agents. Sure enough, three muddy and water soaked Agents exited the back of the jet in various stages of injury. Reassuringly, none of the men looked particularly impaired aside from one man who was leaning heavily on his team mate and limping indignantly.

"Hendricks, what did you do? Get into a fight with a washing machine?" Sam hollered while rushing over to assist the male Agent limping out of the jet. Upon closer inspection it appeared that the blonde crew cut agent was suffering from an impressive array of cuts and bruises to his face. Behind him, Natasha casually exited the jet ringing water from her hair and smiling brazenly despite sporting a particularly nasty looking cut running from her left eyebrow down to her cheek.

It took Steve more effort than usual maintain his stern face and greet the approaching red headed female with a disapproving scowl. "You're late." He scolded her, his eyes sweeping up and down her body in search of any other injuries or signs of distress.

Raising an amused eyebrow, the infamous Black Widow placed a hand on her hip and pouted audaciously. "Awww Mom, you didn't have to wait up for me. I told you I'd be home before pumpkin hour."

"I wasn't waiting up." Steve lied, retrieving a white and blue handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her. "Here." He pointed to the cut on her face and ignored the way she rolled her eyes at his insistence to take the soft folded material. "I take it the person who gave you that is now broken in 57 places and probably in need of a colostomy bag?"

Natasha shrugged nonchalantly. "Only 23," she admitted, raking a hand through her long hair and flinging a clump of mud and grass onto the ground. She scowled, wiping her soiled hand down the front of her uniform uselessly. Steve forced his eyes to remain on her face as the action caused the zipper on her leather suit to lower significantly, but not before he caught a glimpse of the side of a creamy supple breast. He felt the heat ignite in his cheeks and swallowed uneasily. If she had noticed his discomfort she didn't show it as she continued on tiredly. "I went easy on him," Natasha answered, dabbing at the cut on her face gingerly. "I think it was his first day on the job."

"How very generous of you," he remarked dryly, reaching forward to retrieve a twig caught up in her hair. He held it up in front of her before tossing it onto the ground with a soft smile. "Is this one of those 21st century beauty routines I need to worry about?" he teased, motioning up and down at the mud caking the sides of her face and lower torso.

"Ugh." Natasha responded, applying the whole handkerchief to her face with a grimace. "No, it's called 'mini landslide 101'. Remind me to send Hendricks my dry cleaning bill." She pulled back the material to examine the amount of fresh blood and dried mud staining the handkerchief before deciding to reapply it back to her face.

By now most of the hanger had emptied, only two maintenance officers and a medic remained inspected the interior of the jet. "Why didn't you call for backup?" The captain enquired his voice low and full of concern.

"Because I didn't need backup," she hissed back, waving off the assistance from an approaching medic toting a first aid kit. The medic nodded and slunk off through the main doors after his colleagues. "Besides, I couldn't - the storm knocked out our coms," she explained, withdrawing a dead ear wig from her ear and handing it to him. He glanced at it briefly before handing it back to her. "However we weren't the only ones in the dark. The base we were sent to scope out was on lockdown due to a state-wide blackout. We were about to head back when Hendricks tripped and caused half the mountain to come down with him. I went after him and by the time I got there he had already come face to face with a Hydra scouting party who came to see what the fuss was about."

"Natasha, you should have-"Steve started, but was interrupted by a dismissive wave of her hand.

"With all due respect, Cap. I've been in worse scrapes. This was barely a blip on the radar. There were only a few Hydra men and by the time our guys pulled Hendricks free, it was all over. Once I was sure it was clear, I ordered us back to the jet and here we are; safe and mostly sound."

Huffing with exasperation, Steve opened his mouth to respond when she silenced him with a dark look. Her green eyes flashed, daring him to question her actions. His frown deepened and he wrestled internally for the right words to express his distaste for the way she handled things; however, he could not find any logical argument that could fault her methods as they often bore good results – especially in the field.

"Relax, Rogers." She cooed, her hand resting on tense arm. "Iknow, ok? Next time we will go in with more manpower and you can bark the orders. But you gotta understand, I've been doing this a lot longer than you, you know," she reminded him gently. She cocked her head to the side slightly, her gaze riddled with reassurance and confidence. Steve screwed up his nose, desperately wanting to fight back against her reasoning, but ultimately feeling defeated; which only made him feel more frustrated. "You know, that is if you don't count all the time you spent napping the centuries away, Captain." She quipped cheekily, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Steve pulled a face, looking disgruntled. "Are you quite finished?" He asked, ignoring the resolving melting away with every second. She waved at him to continue and he squared his shoulders, summing his best Captain's voice. "First off, that's not what I was going to say." Her eyebrows rose in disbelief, but she allowed him to continue regardless. "What I was going to say was... _good job_."

"Oh." Natasha's mouth formed a soft 'o' as she stared back at him, somewhat surprised.

He smirked, finally feeling like he'd gained the upper hand again. He pointed to the jet. "You got everyone back in one piece and you completed the mission without an international mishap and a call to arms."

She eyeballed him suspiciously. "But...there's always a 'but'."

"No 'buts'."He promised, hands raised up in defence. "That's all."

"Hmmmm." Natasha finally responded, levelling him with a suspicious look. She removed the handkerchief from her face and nodded that the blood was starting to clot already. She smiled. "Well if that's all then, Cap, I have a hot date with a shower and some clean sheets. If anybody needs me tonight for anything less than an apocalypse than I'm out of the country."

Chuckling, Steve stepped back, extending his arm for her to move towards the main doors. "By all means, don't let me hold you up."

Giving him a half hearted salute, she moved past him and headed towards the doors, hips sashaying as she went. "Thanks for the loan, Cap." She called over her shoulder. "G'night."

"Night," He called after her, watching her walk away. Once she slipped through the doors, he turned back to survey his bike, his desire to continue maintenance on the bike evaporated.

"Hey, Rogers...?"

"Yeah?" He turned around and spied her head poking through the doors, a soft genuine smile on her face.

"Thanks for leaving the porch lights on."

Steve smiled, ducking his head boyishly as he felt the stain of blush warm his cheeks for the second time that night. "Don't mention it," he answered bashfully. "It's no big deal."

Natasha nodded at him, a delighted smile spreading across her face. He held up a hand to wave her to go and she disappeared through the double doors, leaving the Captain and his bike once again alone.

"Yup, she's going to be the death of me," he murmured to himself and hastily began to pack up his tools.

* * *

Please R & R - flames are never appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

All The Kings Horses Chapter 2

Bathed by the sombre blue glow streaming from her laptop, Natasha Romanoff awoke from a turbulent night of broken sleep. Unclenching painfully gritted teeth, she ran a tired hand through her autumn red locks and stared up at the smooth concrete ceiling above her head. _It was just a dream_ , she told herself as her pounding heart slowly returned to its normal steady rhythm. _It's not real_.

It had felt real enough.

Her eyelids fluttered as she recalled the feeling of blistering flames licking the side of her cheek and the cruel pricks of shrapnel kissing her arms and legs. Natasha's lips, cracked and dry, meshed together in a desperate search for moisture. The last whispery remnants of the dream left her with a hollow ache deep inside her chest. Screwing her eyes shut she tried to sort through the hazy scenes spliced together before they completely escaped her consciousness. Someone had been calling her name; a child's forlorn cry mixed amongst an incessant barrage of weaponry being discharged all around her. There had been billowing columns of smoke, flickers of blue and red, shouting, gunfire, blood… so much blood. It's coppery stench forced her eyelids open.

 _A dream or a memory?_

Determined to avoid any further feelings the dream might evoke, she shifted on to her side to face her laptop directly. Reaching out to her bedside table, she tapped the spacebar to awaken the machine and chewed her lip impatiently as the fans inside the laptop began to whirl. Dancing neon patterns were abruptly replaced with bright red lettering stretched out across the screen.

Search Failed.

Clicking her tongue in disappointment, Natasha rolled onto her back and kicked her cold, sweat-soaked sheets free from her limbs. It had been months since their dubious victory against Ultron. Months since the Scarlet Witch had invaded her mind with vicious memories from her shadowy past. They'd won – _barely_. The Avengers had completed their mission to stop Ultron from destroying the world and had parted ways once the fires were extinguished and the threat was no more. Bruce Banner, or rather the Hulk, was the first to leave; silent and solo he left without a trace, a signal or a goodbye. Clint was next, departing to be with his growing family and concerned wife; then Stark bowed out, suspiciously quiet, though it was clear to everyone that his already heavily burdened shoulders where struggling under the weight of remorse. Even Thor, after checking on Jane, returned to Asguard with a worrisome warning to his friends to stay close and to stay vigilant.

Only two remained - the solider and the spy.

Steve Rogers surprised everyone by demonstrating some newfound determination that added a bounce to his confident strides. According to Fury he was back to being the living legend - Captain America - more shinny and patriotic than ever. He had purpose, drive and leadership to look forward to again. He volunteered to train the remaining heroes left stumbling around after Ultron before Fury even had a chance to open his mouth. Captain America was going to instil them all with values, bravery and compassion. They would be his legacy; they would be his champions.

Then there was one.

Despite being released with a full clean bill of health, Natasha had never felt more wary and disenchanted after a mission. She had no drive, no purpose, no energy, no _faith_. There were new puncture marks in her heart that she was going to learn to live with and her mind was struggling to corral the dark memories that had surfaced like a virus thanks to a certain red leather clad, crazed orphan. Life was quickly becoming complicated again - which usually meant it was time to pack her bags and find a new identity and a new life.

Leaving wasn't an option this time.

Words, reverberating maliciously against her skull, were all but deafening in their repetition. _"I adore you."_ A hesitant but apologetic declaration laced with so many naive girlish promises and sweet yearning desire. _"But it's the other guy I need."_ A confession that hung so heavily in the air with its truth that it was like heavy ash weeping from a turbulent volcano.

The world needed its heroes – whether they liked them or not. Innocents needed protecting and it always required a sacrifice. _Always_. She couldn't afford to be selfish and run away - not when it meant abandoning the others. Natasha had made a promise to Clint and herself long before the name _Avengers_ was ever conceived. She had to do the right thing now; it was the only way to scrub the ledger clean. It was messy and it hurt more than it felt good - but it had to be done. It was the right thing to do. It was her mission, her penance, and her debt alone to pay.

And Natasha Romanoff always paid her debts.

A small radio crackle beside Natasha notified her that her communications line had been made active again. The time for self-indulgent musings was over. Pushing the small flesh coloured earwig into her ear she answered, "Romanoff, here."

"Good, you're awake." Agent Maria Hill's no nonsense voice greeted her with an update on the previous nights activities. "Last nights reconnaissance proved to be valuable. Fury's here. He wants to see you and Rogers asap."

Natasha sat upright. _Fury? What did he want?_ "Copy that," Natasha responded and quickly climbed out of bed. In a flourish of movement she showered and changed into her on base uniform of fitted black jeans, knee high boots and an a tight fitted black shirt. Dousing herself with deodorant, she ran a brush through the damp tangled mess of curls adorning her head and slipped on her favourite brown leather jacket.

After fixing her bedding, she closed the search program running on her laptop and withdrew a nondescript silver usb from the machine. Opening the bottom draw of her night stand, she pushed back the false bottom and retrieved a small brown faded cardboard box. A barely legible water-stained Russian cigar company boasted fine quality European cigars on it's lid and she opened the box. She slipped the usb inside to rest atop a handful of faded black and white photographs, a child's drawing, a half eaten packet of strawberry hubba-bubba chewing gum and a gold necklace boasting a tiny gold arrow. She replaced the box beside her favourite 22-hand gun and made sure to slide the bottom back in to place.

Glancing around her private quarters, Natasha retrieved her grey and orange key card from the shelf and shoved it deep down inside her pocket. Upon exiting her sparsely decorated room, she found the hallway to be empty. Opposite her own room was another Avenger who dared to call the Training Facility home, whose door somehow seemed cleaner and brighter than all the others surrounding it. After a curious glance towards Sam Wilson's slightly ajar door at the end of the hall, she hurried towards the staircase that led down to the kitchen and common room area that she shared with her teammates and other top ranking agents such as Fury and Maria Hill.

"Coffee, two sugars?" Steve greeted warmly over his shoulder when she breezed into the room in search of something hot and packed with caffeine.

"Is the Pope Catholic?" she quipped, grinning when he paused momentarily to consider her question. "Yes, please." She corrected sweetly and took the travel mug he handed her. Moaning softly in gratitude, she took an experimental sip and savoured the deliciously bitter taste against her tongue. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He picked up his own travel mug and tucked a folded newspaper under his arm. "Did you sleep ok last night?"

Natasha regarded him suspiciously over the top of her mug, eyebrow raised in question. "Yeah, why?"

Steve raised his coffee clad hand in mock defence, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "No particular reason. Just making polite conversation." When she continued to observe him with a critical gaze he chuckled and motioned to the elevator. "Shall we?"

"Okay," she complied with one last sceptical look and followed him over to the elevator. She glanced around the common room as they passed the staircase and noted the absence of her teammates. "Where is everyone?"

"Sam's leading them through some drills around the quad." He reached passed her and pressed the call button on the elevator.

"Isn't that supposed to be _your_ job?"

A triumphant grin began to widen across his face while he looked up innocently at the numbers lighting up on the elevator. "Not today."

The elevator arrived, the silver doors sliding open to allow them access. The two entered and Natasha swiped her card across the keypad before selecting a floor. Realisation dawned on her and she shot Rogers an exasperated look. "Sam challenged you to a race again, didn't he? Steve, he's going to bust a lung if you two aren't careful," she admonished.

Steve shrugged, assuring her with a charming smile that it was merely some clean fun. "He set me up – tied my shoelaces together in a million knots while Rhodes distracted me. Well guess who had the last laugh when I won…barefoot."

"How did he manage to tie your shoelaces together without you noticing?"

"How else? He persuaded Wanda to use her telekinesis–"

"Well at least they are working together as a team, that's what you wanted wasn't it?" Natasha pointed out, her own smile growing as she imagined the scene in her head.

"Yes, but I expected them to be fair about it."

"All's fair in love and war, Rogers." Natasha teased taking a deep gulp of her coffee now that it was cool enough. The captain only snorted in response, leaning back against the railing inside the elevator until they arrived at the right floor. Natasha led the way out, heading straight towards the debriefing room where Agent Maria Hill and Fury were already deep in conversation.

"Oh-oh, this looks serious," Steve whispered to Natasha as they entered the room.

"Don't worry, Rogers - I'm sure Fury just wants to ask you to the sweethearts dance or something," Natasha hissed back, receiving a slight jab to the ribs from Steve's elbow in response.

"Good, you two finally made it." Fury greeted them as they took their seats at the large debriefing table. Maria moved to switch the glass into black out mode allowing them to clearly see the monitors alight with a streaming news cast, a scrolling Intel sheet and what looked to be a video captured on a cell phone depicting civilians scrambling for their lives as explosions rocked the city streets.

Natasha opened the thin grey folder in front of her, examining several of the grainy photographs of trucks and storage containers being delivered to an unmarked warehouse. She could tell from the broken windows and gaping holes in the roof that the factory had been abandoned at one time before obviously becoming a storage house to whatever illegal goods were being smuggled. There was something oddly familiar about one of the trucks, but with no registration plates, marks or any of the normal decals that were associated with a military operation, she was at a loss as to pinpoint what it was. She frowned, glancing from the Intel screen to the photographs in front of her. She didn't recognise any of the faces or noted anything particular about the clothing worn by the smugglers, but somewhere in the back of her mind a warning flag went up.

Glancing at over at Steve to see if he shared the same misgiving, she found that he was too bust looking up at Fury expectantly. "What are we looking at here?" Steve asked, glancing from Agent Hill to Fury.

"I'm glad you asked, Captain. How do you feel about taking your teammates on their very first excursion?"

"Do you think they're ready, Sir?" Maria asked as soon as Rogers and Romanoff had left the briefing room. She returned the windows back to their usual clear state and began turning monitors off while her boss sat drinking his coffee and contemplating the dossier he'd had her organise at the last minute.

"I guess we'll soon find out," Fury answered cryptically. Years of working for the eye path wearing shadowy man who ate secrets for breakfast told Maria that Nicholas Fury was far from concerned about the partially inexperienced super hero team embarking on their first mission together. "They'll sink or swim one way or another."

"And Rogers and Romanoff?"

A smirk lit the older man's features, his head nodding up and down in amusement. "I was concerned after Banner's disappearance that we might have some complications, but so far they work together like a well oiled machine, which allows an old man like me to sleep better at night." He tapped the photographs attached to the top of the dossier. "She noticed something we missed though. I saw it as soon as she opened the file."

"I did notice her expression. Something from her days in the KGB perhaps?"

"Nothing from what my sources tell me," Fury admitted frowning down at the photograph. He couldn't see anything out of place, anything amiss apart from a bunch of wanna be black market smugglers trying to make a quick buck for stolen Ultron parts. "If there's a rat hiding somewhere amongst the pigeons she'll sniff it out before we do."

"Anticipated weakness?"

"The Maximoff girl is still my number one concern," Fury admitted closing the dossier file and swivelling his chair so that he could observe Rogers and Romanoff rounding up their team in the hanger bay. He leant forward, his eye narrowing in on the one member of the Avengers team that kept to herself at the back of the group, her stance uncertain. "It's hard to tell where her loyalties lay these days."

"She seems to be fitting in well enough." Maria assured him, taking a stance by the window. "She takes direction from Rogers easily, though with Romanoff she is keeping her distance. The girl seems to be quite taken with Vision – the two are often seen around base deep in conversation."

Fury nodded, his eyes never leaving the younger girl. He still had his doubts, but his gut told him that it was the right move to have her join the team and he trusted his gut more than anyone in the building other than Maria Hill. Draining his coffee cup, he stood up from his chair and shrugged his black leather trench coat on. "Keep me appraised, Hill."

"As always, Sir." Maria responded swiftly, walking him out of the debriefing room.

"Oh and one more thing," Fury said, whirling on his heel. "Make sure to send the Barton's something-"

"Already on it, Sir." Hill responded with a smile and handed him her tablet and a pen in order for him to sign off at the bottom. "They appreciated the gift basket you sent them at the hospital upon Nathaniel's birth."

Fury beamed, nodding his head in respect. "Nice, Hill. Keep up the good work."

Later that night, while the rest of her team had retired to their rooms, Natasha sat at the kitchen table scouring the dossier they'd been given. Chewing on the end of her pen, she scowled, deep in thought, trying to find a clue amongst the blurry pixels and black and white surveillance photos.

She was missing something.

It was between flipping a page over that she felt a distinct tingling sensation on the side of her neck and she looked up expecting to see someone trying to creep up on her. The kitchen and common room were empty however, the light above her head barely illuminating the darkened rooms. Natasha's eyes narrowed, scanning her surroundings but spotting nothing out of the ordinary. Frowning, she stood up, snatching up her coffee mug with the premise of going to refill her mug but also allowing her to do a casual sweep of her surroundings.

Still the tingling sensation continued, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge as she turned on the lights in the kitchen and refilled her coffee. While adding a teaspoon of sugar to her drink with her left hand, she silently retrieved her gun from its hiding place underneath the utensil draw with her right hand. Once she had the cool metal between her fingers, she tucked her hair behind her ear and listened intently to her surroundings.

The fridge in the corner of the kitchen hummed quietly, the coffee pot grumbling as it refilled itself and began it's cycle of brewing coffee. All was as it should be, and yet Natasha's instincts said otherwise as she made her way slowly back to the kitchen table.

She cast a glance up the stairs, to see if one of her teammates where coming to join her, but there was no one. She was alone as she had been for the last hour. Still maintaining her grip on her gun, she placed her mug on the table before shifting to do a sweep of the darkened common room.

Natasha paused before turning on the lights, glancing once more around the deserted room before turning on the light. Now illuminated, the room revealed that she was still alone, and feeling foolish, she switched the lights back off and trudged back to the kitchen.

" _Natalia."_

Natasha whirled around, reaching to grab hold of the firm male hand that had her by the shoulder and let out a surprised gasp when there was no one there. Confused, she raised her gun and turned around in a short circle, trying to detect the intruder who had whispered her name in a thick Russian accent.

" _Over here little one."_

A shadow, detected out of the corner of her periphery vision darted up the staircases and she lunged towards it, taking the steps two at a time. The landing and hallway was deserted. Confused and irritated, Natasha sought out the shadow, leaving no corner, no ceiling, no nook or cranny unturned until she was standing in front of her open quarters. Knowing she never left her door open, she tiptoed towards her bedroom, clicking the safety latch off her gun with the tip of her finger.

" _What has come of the Black Widow?"_

The male voice sounded further away now, almost like a whisper caught up in fierce wind. Natasha slowly stepped in to her bedroom, taking note of the rumbled sheets and her uniforms scattered on the floor. She turned the bedside light on, her eyes flicking back and forth around the room, searching, straining, and trying to find the culprit that was teasing her.

"Nat?"

Natasha whirled around, her finger on the trigger ready to shoot, and swore when she saw a partially dressed Steve standing sleepily in her doorway, his shield in hand. "Jesus Rogers! I nearly shot you in the God damn head!"

"I heard a noise," he explained staring at her with concern in his eyes. He peered around her empty bedroom before lowering his shield. "Are you ok?"

Switching the safety back on and lowering her weapon, she sat down heavily on her bed. The tingling feeling was gone and she was left feeling an enormous amount of fatigue in her body. "Yes… No… Too much coffee, I guess." She placed her gun on the table while he propped his shield up against the wall and took at seat on her desk chair.

"You want to talk about it?"

She looked up at him, noting the genuine worry on his face, but also noting how he was only dressed in a pair of light blue sweat pants and that there was a lot of perfectly sculpted naked Steve Rogers in front of her, in her bedroom, in the middle of the night. Natasha looked down at her hands, stuffing them under her thighs when she noticed they were shaking slightly. "Not really," she admitted. "I thought I heard some weird noises, but it must have been in my head."

"What kind of noises?" He asked, but when she looked up at him with a look that clearly reminded him she didn't want to talk about it, he simply nodded. "Right." He stood up, clearing his throat. "I guess I'll be headed back to my room then. I, ah, hope you sleep well. Big mission tomorrow. New bad guys to beat up."

Natasha couldn't help but smile at his lame attempt to cheer her up. Looking pleased with himself that he'd made her feel better; he picked up his shield when there was a sudden knock at her door. "Jeez, is anyone actually asleep?" Natasha muttered as Vision and Sam stood at the doorway. Vision was dressed in his full gear, including his cape, while Sam was dressed more casually in military branded sweats.

"Just thought you should know, Wanda was having bad dreams and some of her mojo leaked out. So if anyone saw anything weird it was her, but by accident." Sam explained, his eyes darting between Steve and Natasha. Natasha glared at him when a small smirk appeared as he took in Steve's lack of dress and he waggled his eyebrows at her teasingly.

Vision, who was all business and no nonsense, nodded his head to corroborate Sam's story. "She apologises for any inconvenience and said it was only due to anxiety driven expectation for tomorrow's mission."

"That explains it then," Steve remarked looking relieved. He clapped Sam on the shoulder as he passed him, heading back to his own room. "Guess we're all a little excited for tomorrow. Well, Goodnight everyone. See you at dawn."

"Dawn?" Sam protested, trailing after the captain. "I thought you said 0900hrs?"

"Yes, but you forgot that we have a rematch for drill training tomorrow."

"What? On a mission day? Man, you are a slave driver – do you ever actually rest or do we have to throw you out of a helicarrier in order to get a sleep in once and a while?"

"Funny, Sam. You'll need that spirit for the run in the morning."

Natasha rolled her eyes and stood up to close her door while everyone returned to their quarters. Rolling her shoulders to work out some of the tension in her joints, she picked up the scattered items about her room and returned them to their rightful place before getting ready for bed herself. With the knowledge that she'd once again been duped by Wanda's powers, she brushed her teeth angrily before throwing herself face down on her bed. Satisfied there were no ghosts from her past hiding in the corners of her quarters, Natasha switched off the bedside light and fell straight into a deep sleep.

7


End file.
